What have you Done Now?
by Khymeira
Summary: Lord Voldemort has found something that he would like much more than to kill Harry Potter: he wants complete possession of the boy- mind, body, and spirit. How is he going to be able to keep away from the Dark Lord?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Lord Voldemort has found something that he would like much more than to kill Harry Potter: he wants complete possession of the boy- mind, body, and spirit. Dumbledore's dead, Sirius is dead- Harry has no one. How is he going to be able to keep away from the Dark Lord, and does he even want to?

Warning: This will be slash, between Riddle(Voldemort) and Harry, so be wary.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's note: I know I should be working on WHTM, but I decided to come up with this, instead. What Have You Done Now is a wonderful song by Within Temptation, and I think it fits Harry and Riddle quite well. I've finally got a computer, but no internet, so I've got quite a bit of time on my hands, and if you've got a bit of free time yourself, and you would like to beta, send me an e-mail through the link on my userpage. I would forever be in your debt! Also a note: I will try to update once a week, usually on Wednesdays, and if I can, that is when I'll be replying to loverly reviews. But in the meantime, take a seat, relax, and enjoy What Have You Done Now.

* * *

_Would you mind if I **hurt** you?_

_Understand that I **need **to..._

_Wish I had the other choices_

_Than to harm the ones I love..._

_**What have you done now?**_

_-Within Temptation_

Harry ignored the incessant chatter and mindless noise around him, focusing on the toast that he buttered liberally and then

spread strawberry jam on. Breakfast was not something he particularly looked forward to, but his year, it was unbearable.

Taking a bit out of the bread, he glanced over at Ron and Hermione as they sucked each other's faces and groaned with

disdain as they continued their snogfest. "Hello!" he wanted to say, "I'm still here!" but he refrained- they weren't worth it.

Setting down the half-finished toast with ill-concealed disgust, Harry pushed away from the Gryffindor table, getting up.

"Harry?" Ron looked up from Hermione's death lock on his neck, his lips swollen and crimson, concern etched on his flushed

freckled face.

"I'll be in the common room," Harry remarked absentmindedly as he stalked out of the Great Hall, oblivious to the motion Ron

made to get up before Hermione latched on to the redhead, bringing his neck down once again.

"Nine holy hells," Harry murmured to himself, sighing and pulling around his bed curtains. He flounced on to the burgundy

comforter, his hands knotted behind his head. "Don't they ever stop?" he mused to himself, frowning. Sliding his wand from his

pajama pocket, he muttered a silencing charm and set in to do as he inevitably did every night: _dream_.

"Potter," a voice called, rousing Harry's consciousness and he pried his emerald eyes open, blinking his vision free of the

groggy blurs. "Doesn't seem like you'll be getting a whole lot of sleep tonight."

"I haven't slept well most of my life," he commented dryly, "thanks to you." He was in darkness, surrounded by it. He could

only see himself, while the voice remained invisible, but he had problems figuring out just _who_ it was.

"Of course," the voice acknowledged, a chuckle following, "of course. And your friends?" the voice inquired politely, as if

striking up casual conversation between to close people.

"At each other, as always," Harry sighed, carding a hand through his own ebony locks. "Let's end this charade, Tom. I grow

tired of it."

Full out peals of laughter followed Harry's blunt statement. As if a veil had been lighted, bright blinding light flashed and Harry

was left standing in a room dredged in Slytherin green and silver, a large canopy bed encompassing one corner. Elaborately

embellished Victorian styled knick knacks were strewn tastefully about, lending an aristocratic Gothic air to the chamber.

Glancing to a velvet high-backed oversized chair, Harry met the image of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord, in the same form

he remembered from the diary in second year.

"Face lift, Tom?" Harry inquired, pulling up another chair that was simpler than Riddle's, which suited Harry just fine, " I have

to admit you look loads better. That whole snake thing you had going on wasn't doing you any favors."

"Why thank you, Harry." Riddle replied graciously, ignoring the biting sarcasm, "I think this look suits me far better as well."

Tom leered as Harry, as if the dark wizard wanted to say more.

Slightly annoyed, Harry quirked his eyebrow. "Something you'd like to say, Tom?"

The ex-Slytherin's eyes smoldered with an emotion Harry didn't recognize. He hid his puzzlement, waiting for the older man to speak.

"I grow tired of charades as well, Harry Potter. I am exhausted of trying to kill you. Dumbledore is dead; your friends have deserted you. You have no one left."

"I would have people left if you didn't off them all," Harry pointed out, anger making his eyes flash.

"Perhaps I made mistakes in the past, Harry, but I've found something I'd like much better than you _kill_ you," Voldemort murmured, pulling himself up from the throne-like

chaise, his garnet eyes boring in to Harry's mind like power drills.

"And what is that?" Harry fought to keep his speech eloquent, drawing upon his nearly Slytherin side to form an emotionless mask.

"You, Harry Potter. I want _you_."

* * *

Please review! Thanks! 


	2. Chapter 2

What have you Done now? Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Slash, male on male relationships. Don't like, don't read. :)

Author's Note: Now look at that- two updates in one day. I'm working on the third chapter as I type this now, so hopefully it'll be ready next week. Again: if you have time and would be willing to beta, please send me an e-mail at the account on my userpage; I won't be able to get to it right away, but I'll get to it soon! Updates hopefully every Wednesday.

* * *

_Would you mind if I **killed** you?_

_Would you mid if I **tried **to?_

_'Cause you have _

_Turned in to my worst enemy_

_You carry hate that I don't feel;_

_It's over now, what have you done?_

_**What have you done now?**_

_-Within Temptation_

He broke away from his sleep harshly as Ron shook his shoulder violently, urging him awake, the last vestiges of his Voldemort dream flashing through his mind.

"Harry!" Ron implored, "You've got to get up! You've got Snape in thirty minutes! He'll kill you if you're late!

"'M up," Harry murmured to his pillow and Ron finally relented, falling back on to his own four poser bed with a sigh. Harry clenched his eyes shut then allowed them to float slowly open, gazing into the cotton weave of his head support.

"Harry, we never talk anymore," _damn it_, Harry moaned to himself, "and Hermione and I- we're really worried about you. You haven't been yourself since Sirius-"

"Don't say his name!" Harry snarled from his place, raising his head up, emerald acid eyes glinting vividly without his glasses. Ron backed away, down casting his face, his neck and ears flushing.

"I'm sorry," Ron whispered, inclining his head, "we were just worried about you, okay?"

"You're worried about me as you and Hermione _suck face_? Bloody hell, I'm almost afraid she'll _vacuum _off your damn lips!" his words were vicious glaciers, each syllable a thrown dagger. Harry saw Ron visibly wince, but the larger boy said nothing as he got up from his bed, sparing not a glance to the brunette Gryffindor as he left the room. Harry immediately regretted his maliciousness, but Ron was already gone by the time his conscience urged him to apologize.

What did he have to apologize for? He hadn't done anything wrong, and yet...

Harry crushed his regret as he slipped out of bed, divested himself of his pjs and pulled on his uniform and glasses.

Casting a quick 'tempus' to check the time, Harry cursed, gathered his bag, and fled Gryffindor Tower, racing down towards the dungeons and Snape's own personal torture lair in the den of snakes.

"Mr. Potter," the potions master announced Harry's untimely arrival with an unpleasant curl of his lip, "so kind of you to join us. Thirty points from Gryffindor. And a detention," the King Snake added, swooping down on Harry like an enormous bat, his cloak billowing as he intimidated, "Friday, here, at seven. I trust you can find your seat, at least."

Harry wisely sat down, lowering his gaze to his shoes.

"Nice, Potter," he heard a voice next to his whisper and Harry glanced to the speaker.

"Right," Harry murmured, and Blaise Zabini's lips settled in to the smallest of smiles. _For a Slytherin_, Harry thought to himself, pulling out a quill and ink to take today's notes, _Blaise Zabini wasn't bad, not __**too**__ bad, anyway-- he could be like Malfoy_, he mused, his eyes darting over to the Slytherin prat as the blonde boasted about his latest lay, _yeah right_. Harry almost laughed to himself, but he hid it with a cough, _Malfoy's almost too gay to function; he's probably the one being laid. Potter? Potter? Are you paying attention? _Where had that voice come from? That didn't sound like one of his voices...

"Potter!" an exasperated Blaise cuffed Harry outside his head and the brunette blinked owlishly at him for a moment before flushing.

"Sorry, Zabini. I was thinking to myself..."

"I could tell," the Slytherin dryly observed, getting up from his desk. "Okay," he noted," we're making _Jezebel's Draught_, which is supposed to make someone, for all purposes, be dead. Sort of like the potion Juliet takes in the end of Romeo and Juliet. With the right antidote, the person'll come back to life." Blaise bent over, skimming the page that detailed the potion's formula. "Potter," he prompted, "go and get the monkshood and the lily tears, and I'll get the shavings of rhyolite and Selene's blessing, okay? Don't do anything with the stuff. I'll put it together."

Surprisingly, under the tutelage of Zabini, Harry grew potion skills he hadn't known he had. He could actually halfway brew something, and thankfully, with Zabini as his partner, their potions turned out decently, always. Snape hadn't even made any snarky comments that he was so fond of lately.

When the bell rang signaling their release from Snape's torture dungeons, Harry fled the classroom, breathing a sigh of relief. One more day survived of NEWT potions.

"Potter!" a voice called out behind him, and Harry stopped, turning around at Zabini's voice, "Hold on a second, would you?" The Slytherin pulled him in to a side alcove, out of the way of the rushing students. " I wanna talk to you about something. Would you meet me in the empty classroom just before the painting of snake entwined in some flowers? I've got something important to talk to you about- let's say, after dinner? Oh! Make sure you don't sleep anytime soon..." Zabini winked, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something Harry didn't. "After dinner, then, Potter!"

Harry's mouth gaped, but then he nodded. "After dinner, then, Zabini," Harry murmured to himself, streaming in to the wild students on their way to class. _Only six more hours of classes to go_, Harry thought to himself, _oh goody_.


	3. Chapter 3

WhyDN Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warnings: Male on male. :)

Author's note: I got the flu this past week, so I didn't have the chance to write anything for WHTM, but hopefully next week I'll have an update for you all. Again, not beta'd, just so ya'll know! I also put up two other things when I updated this, so check it out!

* * *

I sing to life 

and to its tragic beauty;

to pain and to strife,

all that dances through me-

the rise and the fall, I've lived through it all...

-Josh Groban

He vaguely remembered the fact he was taking notes for class and that he was blissfully thankful Professor Binns was dead and

hadn't any idea that he was nearly half asleep.

Beside him, Seamus Finnegan snored quietly, inane murmurings about house elves and broomsticks slipping out of his mouth in

the Irishman's native brogue. A bit of spittle even dribbled from his mouth and his thick sandy hair plastered against his cheek.

Harry was half-tempted to fall asleep like that, but his mind flashed to the image of Tom Riddle's relaxed form in his throne-chair

and the smug grin that encompassed his thin lips. Just thinking about it, Harry felt like a young Hannibal Lector was eying him as

to decide on how to eat him... well, not in that funky eat-your-brains sort of way... maybe Voldemort had been more like

Casanova in the final moments of the dream.

"I want _you_, Harry Potter," the Dark Lord's imperious voice thundered and Harry hid a shiver. It wouldn't do to get freaked out

during Professor Binns' class, he decided quickly, and he raised his hand meekly, trying to feign illness.

"Yes, Mr. Porter?" the ghost called in its monotone, stopping in the lecture.

"I don't feel quite well, sir. May I be excused? I'm afraid I'll get sick on your lovely replicas of the Goblin Wars' battle skirmishes."

Affronted, Binns nodded curtly, waving his see-through arms. "Go, Porter. I'll not have you destroying my precious replicas. If

you will."

Grabbing his quill, ink, and book, Harry shoved them in to his bag and then left the room, amid the monotonous drones of the

ghost teacher and the snores of nearly everyone in the class. Now at least he could class skip till dinner.

He took small portions for dinner, keeping the fact that he was supposed to be sick in clear context in his mind.

"Y'all right, Harry?" Seamus Finnegan asked, peering over Harry's shoulder, "You left Binns' class early. Can't blame ya, though-

his voice makes me want to off _myself_ sometimes." he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, his eyes crinkling good-naturedly.

"Have ya seen Ron yet? He was looking for ya," the sandy-haired boy paused, carded a hand through his locks, and glanced

back at Harry, "said he needed to talk to ya. Don't know what about, though." absentmindedly, he stroked his chin. "Just thought

you should know, yeah?"

"Mmm, yeah," Harry replied, glancing up from his miniscule meal for a moment and nodding slightly. Seamus squeezed the hand

on Harry's shoulder in a reassuring gesture and went to sit down next to Dean Thomas, grinning back at Harry with a slight wave.

Harry's lips quirked in an answer, but the expression quickly melted as his eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table, to Blaise Zabini

as he chatted with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, pointing out something in a rather dusty leather tome. The olive-skinned

boy flicked the pages, his index finger underlining another thing before his chestnut eyes slanted up into Harry's, the Slytherin's

eyebrow arched. Quickly, Harry reverted his gaze to his mashed potatoes, flushing.

_What are you doing?_ his inner voice chided, _eyeing up Blaise Zabini_? _Do you think staring at him will make dinner go by _

_any faster_?

He sighed, trailing his spoon through his food, making odd designs. He wasn't hungry, though he knew he should eat, but he

couldn't bring himself to take a bite.

"Eating's overrated," Harry muttered aloud to himself, dropping his spoon with a plop in to the mass of potatoes, resting his head

on his hand.

He could be a bit early for the meeting with Blaise- at least waiting beat making faces with his broccoli.

As Harry left the Great Hall, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy shared a look over the book, nodding to each

other, their eyes darting to the retreating form of Harry Potter. Slytherin conspirators.

Harry made his way to the dungeons blindly, shuffling his feet on the stone floors. He hummed to himself a snippet of a tune he'd

heard someplace, one finger tracing the wall as he spiraled downward.

He bypassed the disused classroom, finally happening upon the portrait Zabini described.

Two garnet slittled eyes gazed out of the magicked oils, unblinking, and the shadow of a serpent was visible through the dense

foliage. A lengthy pink forked tongue flicked out, as if scenting the air and the reptile began to emerge from the flora, its scales a

pearlescent aqua. It stared at Harry, as if judging him by character, and then it tasted the air once again.

"_Who are you_?" it prompted, its voice just as patrician as the Slytherins' and Harry almost gaped.

"Harry. Harry Potter. I-"

"_A Gryffindor_," the snake said, as if identifying an exotic species, its tongue darting out, "_but I see a snake's skin beneath your _

_lion's mane..._" it seemed to savor the expression of puzzlement on Harry's face and it hissed. "_You're here for Blaise Zabini. _

_Heed his words, young little serpent. Slytherins do not idly make promises_." That said, the portrait swung open on its hinges,

revealing a room. Harry stepped in, the painting closing behind him.

"Odd," Harry remarked to himself, a bit freaked out. He'd never met a portrait so... intuitive, well, besides Dumbledore's; at least

the serpent hadn't had that annoying little twinkle that Dumbledore did.

He pushed the reptile's words from his mind as he peered about the room, casting a quiet _incendio _in the fireplace.

He pulled up a chair, flopping in to it, sighing. He stilled his mind, crushed the wisps of thought that tried to invade his

consciousness, and simply sat, trying to relax.

Bustling in the outside corridor made Harry jump, but he brushed it off as Blaise Zabini poked his head inside, then entered,

shaking his head.

"Sorry, Potter," the Slytherin acknowledged, then took a seat himself. "I didn't mean to be late; there were difficulties-"

"That's fine," Harry interrupted with a smile, waving his head. "No harm no foul. What did you want to talk about? It seemed

urgent."

A pregnant pause followed as Zabini situated himself, and then looked to Harry.

"Well, actually it's not too urgent," Blaise began sheepishly, "but it's not about me. I'm sure you know very well that half of us in

Slytherin have parents or know someone who is a death eater."

Harry froze for a moment, affronted, but then nodded.

"Yeah,"

"Well I'm not one."

"Oh. You're not?" confused, Harry's brows knitted.

"I'm not," he confirmed, "but I want to be." As Harry moved to say something, Blaise held up a hand, silencing Harry's protests. "I

want to be because I think Voldemort proves a valid point. I personally don't want to be in some muggle science lab because

they've found out about us. However, I don't support the pureblood way. It's common sense- I know a lot of muggle royal

families have problems with sickle cell anemia. Sure, it's all well and dandy if you're in a place that has malaria, but there are also

other problems. Purebloods are all related to each other- the gene pool for us is little more than a puddle now, and I think that it

would be best if some... new blood was brought in to the circle.

"I don't mean muggles. But what I do mean is half-bloods, muggle-borns... even squibs and humanoid magical creatures. In all

realistic thought, as a race, we wizards might actually become more powerful with new blood." the Slytherin breathed deeply,

steadying his nerves.

"I also don't believe in the useless torture of anyone, except complete morons. Like I'm sure your muggle relatives are." he

grinned, and Harry's brows furrowed even further.

"How did you know about them?" he asked, his brow rising this time. "No one except my friends, Dumbledore..."

"Voldemort- you share a mind link with him. My father is quite well known in the inner ranks."

Gob smacked, Harry could only nod.

"And I also know that you haven't been sleeping. Dreamless sleep draughts no longer work for you, and you now know of the

Dark Lord's transformation. He seemed to think that it would appeal to you more, instead of that whole 'snake thing'." Blaise

leered at Harry with a smug grin, winking.

"And so I've come here to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" Harry managed to spit out, shaking his head and carding a hand through his inky locks.

Blaise chuckled. "A deal, Harry Potter. You settle down with the Dark Lord- with you by his side, I believe that you could put a

chain on the beast, to say, and we'll keep the wizarding world a secret. Everything works out."

"Be with Voldemort?"

"He prefers Riddle now- says it keeps his image better."

"Be with Tom Riddle?" Harry murmured in a daze, narrowing his eyes.

"You go to the Dark Lord, and you'll be away from the dreadful monotony of this school that you so despise. You'll be, of

course, in his inner circle, in charge of nearly everything. With you by his side, we can overthrow that useless arse of a minister

Scrigmeour and start..." Blaise's eyes slitted, "with a new slate. All you need to say is yes."


	4. Chapter 4

WhyDN, chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warnings: Slash.

Author's note: Sorry about last week's update! I had the flu and couldn't update- meh bad, sorries! But here is the next installment of WhyDN!

I know I'd better trying

You know that there's no denying

I won't show mercy on you now

I know I should stop believing

I know that there's no retrieving

it's over now-

what have you done?

-Within Temptation

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Dark Lord, was currently extremely annoyed. Harry Potter was proving to be resilient to every advance during his dreams, and now that dreamless sleep potions no longer worked for the Boy Wonder, there were numerous opportunities for the ex-Slytherin wizard to seduce the naive little Gryffindor.

But either the boy was more oblivious than he thought, or that horrific muggle upbringing had Harry ignorant to the ways of sex and attraction, in which case he would certainly thoroughly enjoy teaching the boy.

With their mind connection, Voldemort had free reign to pop in on Harry's dreams, or vice versa, not that Harry ever really knew consciously that he was doing it. The Dark Lord only wished that that stupid dolt of a Weasely hadn't woken Harry up at that moment- with a little persuading, he could have had his tasty little morsel then and there.

Brooding, Voldemort's garnet eyes slanted up to see Gigorio Zabini as the death eater bowed and entered the Dark Lord's study, and as the pureblood Italian aristocrat looked up, Tom Riddle cocked an eyebrow.

"Blaise is trying to convince the Potter child to our cause as we speak, my lord. My son informs me that they are already acquaintances, and Potter trusts him enough to meet him alone. Soon, my lord, I expect that Harry Potter shall be distanced enough from his friends, with no help from us, to slip away from Hogwarts unnoticed and straight in to your waiting arms."

As Voldemort digested Zabini, senior's words, his grimace morphed in to a slight smile and his abnormal red eyes glinted.

"Thank you, Gigorio. You and your son have been of much help."

"Master?" the man broke in politely, bowing his head, "It has been documented that Harry Potter has been in the Room of Requirement and practicing dark magic as well. I thought you should know- Blaise also saw several books of dark magic in the child's bag. I don't know what this means, but I believe that it is of importance."

The seated man concealed his surprise, schooling his features in to a cold mask of indifference. "Very well,

Zabini. You are dismissed." It wouldn't be long until Harry Potter was his, and Merlin damn it, Harry would be his soon...

* * *

Harry looked from the floor to Blaise Zabini's glittering obsidian eyes, not quite believing what he had just heard.

"All you need say is yes," Blaise reminded, his fingers steepled, his olive skin cast with flickering shadows from Harry's conjured fire.

"I can't decide in a single moment to go against all I've known- I-I... can't," Harry started, shaking his head.

His face contorted with his words, pain and consternation evident in his features.

"But hasn't there always been the tiniest part of you that has wanted to be selfish? Harry, you for once, need to think of yourself. Stop wondering, stop worrying that you're doing the wrong thing. Follow your heart."

"From a Slytherin- follow my heart?" his voice squeaked, and he hid his eyes with his hand. "There are too many people who are looking up to me-"

"Would you rather a corrupt Ministry govern the world? Could you allow the ministry in charge to keep on discriminating against those you love? What about Lupin? He's a werewolf- under Voldemort, he will no longer be an animal. He'll be, for the first time in his life since he was bitten, _human_."

"I-"

"Harry. Please, I beg of you. Just try to understand- have you ever heard of a stabilizer?"

"What?"

"You'd be Voldemort's stabilizer, Harry. You'd make him _human_. I think, given the opportunity, you could learn to love him. I think that his infatuation with you could turn to love. With Harry Potter, the Hero, and the Dark Lord in charge, I believe that as a race, we could advance so much more- Harry. Trust me- there is no such thing and _light _and _dark_ or _good _and _evil_. There are only shades of grey... Please. I want you to at least think about it."

"You want me to think about being in a relationship with the man who_murdered_ my parents?"

"There is nothing I can say to that. You've got me, and you know it. But Harry, please. Sometimes people change."

"And sometimes they don't."

"He can't take back what he did, Harry. But promise me. Promise me you'll think about it." The Slytherin's hand grasped Harry's, squeezing lightly. "Trust me."

"I trust you, Blaise. But I don't trust _him_."

"I understand. But try- there is only so much that he can hide from you."

"What do you mean?"

Blaise smiled, the edges of his lips upturning. "I'm sure you'll find out sure enough."

With that, the larger boy got up, adjusted his silver and green striped tie, and exited, the portrait closing behind him with an ominous echo.

"Nine holy hells," Harry moaned, rubbing his temples. "I think I've landed myself in some deep shit." _Too right you are_, a voice in his head quipped, and Harry growled, _but at least you'll think about it._ "Damn it all," he sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could lie."

* * *

_Father_, Blaise Zabini wrote in his neat cursive script,

_I have spoken to Harry about giving thought to the idea of joining our Lord, but he is reluctant to give up his old friends._

_Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasely are constantly engaging in their torrid affair, often leaving Harry as the third wheel. It is not uncommon to see Weasely and Granger _together_, in that sense._

_Granger seems to have forgotten about her once-friend, though Weasely still seems to hold some shred of affection for Harry Potter and the two of the males are often seen rowing, usually about Harry's godfather, the deceased Sirius Black or Harry not eating adequately._

_The red-head has a point; I never see the boy eating, and I suspect that the boy constantly has glamouries on._

_I am worried_, Blaise had crossed out worried several times through and a large inkblot stained through the parchment, as though the Slytherin was searching for the right word, _terrified that he has severe malnutrition. When he finally comes to the manor, father, I think a little fattening up is in order. And perhaps several strengthening potions as well._

_Though he finds himself reluctant, I believe that Harry will come to our clause but I know I have my own pacts that Voldemort must fulfill and sacrifices must be made._

_I ask that my Lord refrains from useless torture of muggles, muggle-borns, half-bloods... magical creatures, with the exceptance of death-eater punishments._

_There are also other agreements that must be made, but I believe that our Lord is intelligent enough to know common sense. If he does not have the utmost sense of caution, he will put off Harry for forever._

_I believe our time is coming soon, father. I give my regards to both you and my Lord, and wish your missions well._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Blaise._

* * *


End file.
